


Bloodstained Mirror Images: A Gate Through Three Samhains

by ms_anthrophy



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Chanslash, D/s, F/M, Het, Incest, Knifeplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Other spermplay, Rimming, Rituals, S/M, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_anthrophy/pseuds/ms_anthrophy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate times call desperate measures ...for there is a storm coming. (Timeline: mostly OotP)</p><p><b><strike>Enticements</strike> Warnings</b>: chanslash, incest, het, D/s, S/M, bloodsports, rimming, orgasm denial, sex magic, gothic romance<br/><b>Disclaimer</b>: J.K. Rowling and many big companies own the Potterverse and the characters. (<i>As if</i>. -Lucius) I don't. Also, they are making the profit and I am not, but I get the joy of making up for the definite lack of romantic incest in canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodstained Mirror Images: A Gate Through Three Samhains

**Author's Note:**

> (**A/N** 1\. Yes, the timeline is purposefully broken-up to describe cyclic time instead of linear one. 2. Dedicated to nights because they are not just days of darkness. 3. Lots of thanks to dear luciusmistress for betaing this and especially for our weird shit friendship. Also, thanks to the band Xasthur (suicide black metal, the title is modified from one of their songs), the RPG Changeling -the Dreaming and some illegal substances,(buprenorphine, tramadol and DXM) for extra inspiration.)

Bloodstained Mirror Images: a Gate Through Three Samhains

 

Samhain, The Third Cycle: The Summoning

This is death. This is birth. This is the end and the beginning of a cycle older than humans: wizards and Muggles alike. This is the Samhain night, a celebration of forbidden pleasures and pains, pure enchantment of Dark Arts. Dressed in simple black velvet robes, a father and a son are standing in the Malfoy Manor's family graveyard, their hair and skin the mirror image of both themselves and the pale, silvery light. Again, there is not a two but a three. Clouds reflect the moonlight in thousands shades of grey as they stare at the moon, holding hands.

Before them is a black headstone, the grave of Abraxas Malfoy, decorated with three gargoyles carved from a single piece of equally black marble, the creatures' eyes green and shining.

Lucius draws his wand and starts to chant a spell in a language so ancient that even the syllables sound like they are not meant to be uttered by a human mouth, while Draco, still aroused to the point of being almost torn apart from the inside, throws his robe away and begins to dance naked around the grave to an unheard tune he _knows_ deep within his body, heart and soul _without_ knowing it. His platinum-blond hair and his pale complexion are like the gentle light of full moon in the form of flesh but there is nothing gentle in his movements as the Malfoy heir dances to the rhytm deep inside his blood, possessed but still in control, every movement pure Satori, darkly shining enlightenment.

At the exact moment of midnight when Lucius' low tone changes into whispered summonings, flames, green like Avada Kedavra, rise from grave mould, flames of Fey Fire from elder times.

 

*****

 

Bad Omens

Draco is, of course, supposed to be at Hogwarts, sleeping soundly in the Slytherin dormitory as a good student should be. And, as a good _Slytherin_, he isn't. This is as far from innocent sleep as anything can ever be.

The day before, Severus Snape gave him a round stone resembling the full moon in its colours of white and silver, perfect in its simplicity. They were well-hidden from all prying eyes not allowed to see things they have no right to know about from Dolores Umbridge to Albus Dumbledore, in one of the many secret rooms inside the Slytherins' dungeons. Hallways and corridors bordering on non-euclidian in their endless labyrinthine forms. This had to be quite special but Severus' expression was as casual as always.

"This is a Portkey from Lucius. It activates at ten o'clock tomorrow evening and I think you are quite ...eager to meet your _family_." (It's really rather good that these school robes are designed to be loose. I don't think Draco would be very _proud_ walking around with a clearly visible erection. The boy has improved very much but his feelings towards his father ..._fucking_ Lucius.)  
"Thank you very much, Professor Snape." (Much more than a 'thank you', of course. This is the _perfect_ Samhain gift.)

Draco had bowed and flashed a brief impish smirk as he knew rather well that Severus was the only person quite aware of the very special relationship between the two Malfoys due to the long history he shared with Lucius.

"Mr. Malfoy, now the case is _not_ just your usual _quality time_ with your father."   
"I understand, Professor." (Well... if having a very slight hint about what is to come can be considered as _understanding_. This definitely isn't a normal Portkey and I sure as Hell know that Samhain isn't just a night of delightful decadence.)

Despite the dry sarcasm in Severus' voice, his expression had been very serious, even worried. As Draco knew his Potions teacher quite well, he hadn't asked any questions despite his distressed curiosity searing like acid, but had just taken the stone and put it carefully inside his breast-pocket, very conveniently hidden under a permanent, rather perfect Concealment charm.

The next day Draco had a really hard time trying to concentrate on his studies. He remembered absolutely nothing about the History of Magic lesson and failed miserably on Transfiguration, losing ten points from Slytherin. He even almost made a slight mistake with his Liquid of Ladybird Flight, a very advanced restoration potion, as disturbing thoughts plagued his mind all the time. When evening descended, Draco was sitting on his bed, hidden safely behind the green curtains, dressed in perfectly matched white silk shirt and trousers, holding the Moonstone in his pale hands. A sight made breathtakingly beautiful through the colour of purity which Draco certainly was made of and innocence that he had probably never possessed.

Draco was nervous and his hands trembled, but still the Pureblood felt relief when the Portkey activated. Returning home was always like moving from one world to another, away from the suffocating rules and false values of Hogwarts, moulded into a part of Headmaster Dumbledore in its blatant favouritism towards Gryffindors and almost _fawning_ over Mudbloods, to the pure elegance, dark debauchery and twisted but oh, so real truths of Malfoy Manor, transformed into the very essence of the Malfoy bloodline by generations of its inhabitants and especially by Lucius Malfoy.

 

*****

 

Samhain, the First Cycle: The Conception in White and Red

A moonless night, green will-o-wisps dancing amidst the autumn trees in the gardens of Malfoy Manor. Black and flickering green of Dark Wizardry.

Inside the luxurious mansion, all white. White as the first snow. Luxurious four-poster bed made of ivory. White velvet draperies embroidered with silver snakes and two pale bodies entwined together on white silk sheets. Two flawless hands holding sharp, silver daggers. The lean, beautiful platinum-blond man, his cold grey eyes meeting the azure gaze of the almost painfully thin, equally but so differently beautiful platinum-blonde woman. Two lazy smirks and Lucius traces Narcissa's jugular vein with his dagger carefully, not breaking skin.

"Lucius... please, the blood..."  
"Oh, no. Your turn, my beautiful bride."

Narcissa throws her dagger on the air and catches it by its handle with experienced fingers. In one movement, sharp as the knife itself, she cuts a wound on Lucius' chest. It is not deep but there is so much beautiful pure blood, the flowing river of their union. She reaches for it, licking, sucking and swallowing the deep, dark red liquid and Lucius moans softly for they truly share this pleasure of blood that is life ...or sometimes, death.

As Lucius thrusts his cock inside Narcissa's virginal cunt, she does not even flinch. These movements of flesh are not sex for her; these are just her obligation to complete their union. To make a two into a three. Blood, deep red liquid flowing from open wounds and dripping down with a glorious sound, it is life and it is death and everything in-between and it is sex, too. Pain of the cuts, be it her own or of another's, willing or not, the intoxicating smell of blood which draws the woman into a trance of torture, _that_ is her lust.

When her moon-pale husband slides his knife deeper into her skin, a cut after another, drawing blood in dreamlike forms, on her small breasts, on her flat belly, on her hands and her thighs, blood, so adorable, so delicious blood, Narcissa moans with unearthly pleasure and climaxes, at the same time as Lucius comes inside her.

 

*****

 

Of Masquerade and Love

Draco lives inside so many masks, layer upon layer for it is the reason Slytherin are made of survival. It is so very _convenient_ to let others think that he is just a brat spoiled beyond belief, proud without any real reason to feel pride. What real use is power for, if you wear it on your sleeve for everyone to see like those pathetic Gryffindors?

While Draco draws immense enjoyment from his mind games as he surely is a true Slytherin and even more importantly a true Malfoy, the electric tension of endless deceit sometimes becomes almost too much to bear for a boy at the age of only sweet fifteen. _Almost_, as Draco has always been taught to _do_ instead of _trying_ to do.

Taught, of course, by his father and being a disappointment is the only thing Draco really can't bear. One reason is his desire for excellence for anything lesser would be a tainted downward spiral for the Malfoy Heir and the other is that failing Lucius' expectations of him would devour the very core of Draco's being like an endlessly cold and dark eternal void, as his father is the only true love in the beautiful Slyherin's life. Maybe these reasons are the same through a twisted mirror.

It is also so fittingly twisted that Lucius is the only person who really can tear every single one of Draco's facades down and reach to his core, the dark purity so like Lucius' own. And the boy glorifies it, both their duels of deceit, every move, every time he is able to shake Lucius' self-control and the inevitable process of losing, the end of the battle of minds when Draco surrenders himself completely to his father, so very willingly though Lucius doesn't leave him any other choice. Maybe these are the same thing, too. Lucius is Draco's perfect drug, his boundless decadent lust, his shining, silvery light of aching love, his mirror of Erised.

Draco is looking at that mirror now, as he now stands in the master bedroom of Malfoy Manor, meeting Lucius' gaze with long-suppressed longing from his own grey eyes. There is something very unusual in his appearance. If Draco did not know better, he would simply wonder why his father is dressed up in simple black velvet instead of his usual luxurious dress robes, but there is much more. Lucius' eyes return the same painful love but deeper down in the uncountable shades of grey there is distress. Deep distress and even ...fear?

Draco, his self-control failing at the sight of his father, can't resist his urge to throw himself into his father's arms, trying to soothe both his own and Lucius' feelings with his nimble body squirming against his father's lean form. Lucius claims his son's body to own, manipulate and control as he tears Draco's white silk clothes open with abandon, silver buttons of the boy's shirt dropping on the floor.

The elder Pureblood bares his son's skin to caress and tease. Lucius kisses Draco soothingly as his long, silvery-blond hair touches the boy's sensitive nipples softly and Draco moans in his father's mouth. Lucius breaks the kiss only to lick the boy's body, leaving a trail of saliva from Draco's neck to his chest. Lucius teases his son's nipples, licking from his skilful mouth, then biting, first gently, making Draco purr softly from pleasure and then harder while his son's delicate feline noises change into begging for more. Pleas his father savours but does not fulfill as he draws his lips, so like Draco's, away to observe the contrast of his son's pale, flawless skin and his nipples red from not so gentle touches of Lucius' sharp teeth.

Lucius steps backwards to gain a better look of Draco's adorable nudity, drawing immense enjoyment from the way his son has grown up. Though gained some muscles from hard Quidditch training, his form is still thin and agile, definitely more beautiful than handsome as Draco has inherited both his father's looks and his mother's delicate bone structure. His cock, hardened from Lucius' mercilessly gentle teasing, has grown and it is very clear that as an adult, the boy will be as well-endowed as his father. The silvery curls on Draco's groin only add to the effect of his ethereal androgyny. The fluidlike grace of Draco's movements is even more beautiful as the boy has learned so very well the arousing effect it has on other people, adding even more manipulative sinfulness to his expressions, the quality Lucius adores.

Lucius has not the slightest desire to _own_ Draco but to raise him to the perfection of a true Malfoy: deceptive beyond belief, strong in ways of self-control, skilful in magic and especially the Dark Arts, cunning, proud and thoroughly amoral with the simply delicious side-effect of Draco's desires so decadent that only Lucius can still consider Draco innocent in some ways, innocence he knows he will taint and twist completely as it is his son's will also.

Draco licks his upper lip rather suggestively but does not move towards Lucius as he both draws immense narcissistic enjoyment from his father's lust for him and does not want to disappoint his father even the slightest bit. The fey-like Slytherin knows so very well that this merciless teasing is the perfect way to teach him self-control, as Draco now has to fight his strongest desire, his absolute incestuous love towards Lucius.

The elder Malfoy reaches for his son instead, first touching Draco's cock lightly, only with his soft fingertips as the boy bites back a desperate moan, keeping his body still, all his willpower needed not to arch against his father's hand to gain more friction. Lucius' smirk merges pride for his son and cruel amusement for he certainly enjoys the sight of Draco duelling against his efforts to break the beautiful boy's self-control. Softly caressing his son's tightened sack, Lucius slaps Draco's pointed cheek sharply, leaving a red mark on his face, forcing a little moan from his son's luscious, moistened lips.

The gloriously dominant Pureblood continues his debauched lesson, mixing gentle touches with painful bites and blows, the perfect merging of pleasure and pain, the blurred line that is the boy's most intense desire, the combination that leaves Draco so aroused it hurts like drips of silver rain eternally falling on his skin, the contrast of bruises and moon-pale complexion so lascivious. The very same lust that leaves Lucius hurting as deeply but he is almost always able to hide that like everything else behind his masks for his son's layers of deceit are still thin as cobwebs compared to those of Lucius'. Draco's self-control finally faltering, he begs, the sound of his needy voice and his words the sweetest music to his father, especially now when his son has endured Lucius' lascivious torture so long and so well.

"Father... please, fuck me."   
"Not now, my son."

"But ...I ache you to fuck me, to fill me, use me in ways no one else can and no one else ever will ...and ...despite that, I have no 'buts'." (This is not the usual game of ours, there is something extremely important beneath the surface. And so, I play my part though I could not do otherwise even if I _didn't_ know.)

"Oh yes, I know _precisely_ how far I have drawn you into your decadent lust of pleasure-pain and that is exactly how _I_ need you." (Trusting and vulnerable through your yearning and your love. Much to my dismay, I _still_ have to admit that Dumbledore is right in one thing. Voldemort does not understand love, the knowledge probably gained through the fact that the sick _Mudblood-hugger_ is as far away from that feeling too.)

Lucius holds his son tightly as they Apparate on the Malfoy family graveyard.

 

*****

 

Samhain, the Second Cycle: Falling Apart

The power. The destiny. The wand pointed at the irritating child's forehead. The cold, green fire of Avada Kedavra. And then, the pain that is not pain for there is no more a body to feel it but agony inside a tortured soul, soul torn apart by chaotic vortex of absolute violence, red and green merging in psychotic swirls while a cold, high-pitched voice screams about all paths leading to Hell, all paths streaming from Hell. A spiritform held together only by supreme willpower. A spiritform fleeing away, away out of fear but not knowing it anymore for Lord Voldemort had for so many years believed himself beyond fear. But now, no power and the destiny ...the destiny betrayed.

 

*****

Samhain, the Third Cycle: Blood and Semen

Lucius whispers the last ancient words and green flames grow higher. The fire burns from somewhere else, not from other place but from other _time_. As the summoning call ends, so does the tune Draco was dancing to. Immediately, the boy stands still, his delicate hands on his sides and his head thrown back, exposing his throat. Naked and vulnerable before his father. Lucius takes a sacrificial dagger from the breast-pocket of his robe and slides its blade gently along Draco's neck, following the delicious trails of his veins seen through the boy's almost translucent skin. The dagger is almost black with a serpent-shaped handle and sharp edges shine silver in the moonlight. Lucius takes great care not to break Draco's skin. Not yet.

Lucius touches Draco's still-hardened cock. Gentle, teasing movements seem to be as much as part of the ritual and the games of self-control and domination the two Malfoys are so used to but never bored of. The elder dark wizard smears his son's milky-white precome on the sharp edge of the dagger and tears his own robes away. The same beauty, the same image of moonlight in form of flesh. Lucius gives the ancient sacrificial knife to Draco who takes it, holding the handle like the dagger has been offered to him thousands of years ago. Maybe it is so.

"Cut me, my son."   
"Yes, Father."

The blade slices deep into Lucius' chest, leaving a snake-shaped wound, and the lusciously flowing red blood is like the very embodiment of life in the scenery of dead-white light, graveyars, and ghosts of flames from elder times. Again, knowing but _not_ knowing, Draco gives the dagger back to his father who now holds the blade in the fire.

"Through unbroken line of pure blood I call thee. Through three Samhains I call thee. We have kept the ancient vows and now I plead for the binding and the blessing of the Fey. I plead for the mask of twilight, to stay out of harm's way."

There is no vocal answer but the flames flicker in a way it seems like _something_ behind them has heard the words and considers the possibilities. Suddenly there is warmth and life in the green fire and it changes its form into a circle. Lucius throws Draco on the grave of his grandfather, steps through through the flames to his side and takes a good, strong grip of his son's hair, hauling Draco on his knees, at the same time dropping the dagger on the grave mould.

Without an order, a question or a plea, the boy's lips like pale rose petals cover the tip of his father's hardened length, Draco's skilful tongue teasing Lucius with as much mercy as his father has given him before. None. The platinum-blond wizard is not able to suppress a sibilant hiss of pleasure, born not only from sensations of Draco's sweet mouth but also from Lucius' pride of his son's ability to force _him_ show signs of losing control, so very soon. Lucius' hand still on Draco's moonlight hair, he tears his son's mouth off his cock, forcing a sigh of loss from the boy's lips.

"Do you _really_ think you can control me, little cock-tease?" (I am not sure anymore. You have grown so much, my dragon.)   
"No, Father." (I _don't_ know... I still can't figure Lucius out and I love it.)

"Good. And I definitely know what you were begging for, slut. Your father fucking your throat deep and hard. You want it to _hurt_, Draco." (_That_ I know. And as I yearn for it as well... you deserve your reward.)   
"Yes... oh yes. Please, Father..."

Draco's words are cut out as Lucius keeps his promise, thrusting his cock inside his son's mouth, deep into his throat in one brutal movement. Draco gags when forced to swallow the whole, thick length of his father's arousal, but it is not a reflex, just a little surprise to please Lucius and he looks up towards the silvery-blond Pureblood with an impish sparkle in his eyes. Lucius lets out a low chuckle and his thrusts grow harder, fast and violent, making Draco even more aroused. The boy's self-control faltering at last, he moves his flawless hand towards his achingly hard prick.

"Oh, I hope I haven't _forgotten_ to tell you that you are not ...ohh ...not at all... allowed to touch that greedy cock of yours, my precious. But as a _gift_, when I come inside your... yess... so delicious mouth, you _will_ keep my semen in your mouth to fully enjoy the taste." (Though this is part of the ritual, I know so well how you love the humiliation, the mind games and the debauchery, your absolute desire that can only be fulfilled by another Malfoy. I cannot deny you that, adorable incubus.)

This dominant ecstasy from the feeling of Draco's eager mouth taking Lucius' cock fully inside his throat, the sight of fey-like boy's lips around his father's aching hardness and those sweet sounds, Draco's moans muffled by Lucius' cock and his gasps for air when his father withdraws his length out of his son's mouth only to fuck his throat harder, finally draw Lucius over the edge and he climaxes inside his son's mouth, filling it completely with his pure semen.

Lucius gestures Draco to stand up and draws his son to a passionate kiss, deliciously dirty when the boy's bruised lips part and Draco lets his father share the seed that gave the younger Pureblood his life, biting Lucius' lower lip quite hard for he understands how Lucius is able to grant the pleasure-pain for his son so absolutely well. Personal experience. Their tongues entwined, Lucius' semen flowing down in milky trails from two delicate chins, their debauched bliss so right and pure in its shining divinity that it is simply meant to be. Maybe this is the only simplicity in being a Malfoy.

Lucius summons the sacrificial dagger to his hand and cuts a snake-shaped wound on Draco's chest, perfectly alike the one his son had done to him before. The boy does not break the kiss but just moans softly from the beautiful sensation of pain into his father's mouth, rubbing his aching cock against Lucius' body, these wonderful feelings finally tearing the last shreds of Draco's self-control away as he climaxes all over their slender moon-pale bodies from the sheer combination of ecstatic pain, friction and closeness to his father.

At that moment Lucius had carefully calculated to happen, he smears his own come into the wound on his son's chest as Draco merges his father's blood and his own seed on Lucius' wound, their movements perfectly mirroring each other. As the bond of blood and semen is sealed, the green Fey Fire draws closer, its warmth now like a gentle caress on their bodies and then the flames just fade away. Lucius hides his momentarily feeling of relief and wraps his arms around his son's body, weak and trembling from the ritual and the orgasm. Almost falling to the ground again, Draco hugs the aristocratic wizard like his life depends on Lucius. Maybe it does.

Father and son, their flesh merged together in a moment of dark bliss eternal. Despite their fondness of false truths, deceitful mind games and obscenities, Lucius and Draco need no words to describe their love so strong it is to live and die for, a love decadent and twisted into shining darkness as Malfoys are made of endless shades of grey, always in-between the lies of black and white, the "good" and the "evil".

"Father... that was faerie magic, ancient and powerful, the deepest Dark Arts I have ever experienced. But what was it _for_?"

"Ah. Now, as the spirits are still close, I can tell you just that there is a storm coming and it bears ill wind for both of us." (Praise Loki it worked. One can never be sure of the Unseelie Court and as us Malfoys have this tendency to choose our strongest allies quite like ourselves... We could have been killed if we had failed. But then again, Malfoys do _not_ fail.)

"But as the ritual is now completed, we have more hope to survive. Draco, you fulfilled all my expectations." (Luckily we did not have to resort to this before as you would not have been ready for what I put you through.)   
"You're flattering me, Father. I was not able to do anything else."

Draco's voice is so very proper and it creates an absolute contrast as he caresses his father's flat stomach, smears his fingers with his own come and licks them teasingly. The boy smirks like the insatiable imp he is, wicked lust shining from his eyes.   
(I can _feel_ my father's arousal and even his desire to test how much I have grown up, both in body and mind? Not that I'd mind, actually I enjoy this _very_ much but _what_ is this?)

Lucius, his face partially covered with his long, silky hair like flowing river of silver, watches his son's antics with a casual gaze from his equally grey eyes but such a different expression, showing only a twitch of amusement from his thin lips as Lucius definitely knows like no one else how his feigned indifference increases his son's aching desire for the obscenities and pleas the strong, beautiful wizard forces from his lips, desire to be under his father's absolute control and finally be granted the agony and ecstasy that is dedicated only to Lucius for he is Draco's shining fallen angel and the perfection the boy yearns to be himself also, some day. The yearning Lucius feels as intense as Fiendfyre, burning in his snake-shaped wound.

"But... I _somehow_ feel that you would like me fulfilling something else, too. Possibly a debauched lust to fuck your own son's arse?" (I think you appreciate that I have learned to ask _properly_ ...for a while at least. For I know how you enjoy so very much to tear my masks away, leaving me no other choice than to be completely at your mercy ...maybe as much as I yearn for it as we both are just slaves to our godlike union.)

"It _might_ be my will..." (_Very_ good, Draco. I adore your improvement even more than I desire to feel your tight arse stretched around my cock ...after I have played with you for a while.)

Lucius allows himself to add a slight lascivious undertone to his drawl and then he kneels before Draco, teasing his son's already hard cock with his skilful tongue. The young Slytherin's soft purrs of pleasure change into desperate moans as he is slowly drowning in his helpless desire, a rare delicacy saved only for his father because as a true Malfoy, Draco will not let anyone else claim him.

"Father... ahh... please fuck me... yes, fuck me hard or I will come inside your mouth and... I want you inside my arse... so bad... so _good_... I know, please... you want it too... oh... don't you?" (This is pure torture... so lasciviously cruel but... By Azazel, you _do_ need it as much as I.)

"Not good enough, Draco. I want you to beg for it like the true slut you are." (And faster but that you will do. I need to fuck you hard very, very soon.)

Lucius slaps his son's pointed cheek sharply and then sucks the boy's achingly hard shaft fully inside his mouth, tasting Draco's precome and touching all the sensitive spots just behind his cock head with his tongue. The elder Malfoy knows so very completely how extreme penchant his beloved son has for pain of pleasure and he releases Draco's cock from his skilful teasing and then backhands the young Slytherin. Draco collapses on the ground, desperately trying to hold his climax back. He bites his lower lip so hard it bleeds, a new stream of blood joining the deep red river caused by Lucius' spiked wedding ring drawing blood from the brutal blow on Draco's pointed cheek, these deliciously hurting sensations reducing the younger Pureblood's very being into a red haze of agonizing yearning, being able to only moan sweet obscenities from his moist lips.

"Father... I am yours... oh _yess_... your painslut... please... fuck me... I am a slut, a cock-whore... mercy... I can't...please... I... your cock... inside my arse..."

"_Much_ better now." (So good I _must_ fuck you now or _I_ will come all over your precious body, my moonskin demon-child.) "I think I will grant you the pleasure to bend over for me."

Lucius takes a good grip on Draco's silky hair again and hauls him on his feet, against the black gravestone of Abraxas Malfoy, spreads his son's arse cheeks and licks the boy's delicate entrance, drawing his son even deeper into his rapture, thrusting his tongue wickedly inside Draco's tight channel, while the intense craving forces sibilant sounds of desperate pleasure from the thin, androgynous boy's mouth, only interrupted by indistinct prayer-like pleas for his father's cock. Like a fallen angel of mercy, proud and beautiful Lucifer incarnate, the elder wizard slides his cock inside his son's velvet tightness as Draco thrusts his arse against his father's body, yearning for the ecstatic merging with Lucius by his whole being.

"You are _such_ a slut, Draco. So _needy_... yess... so _very_ desperate for my cock..." (And my obscenities, my sinful son.)

"Oh yess... please... Father... harder... more?"

"As you beg so... oh... so _very_ deliciously... take it like a good boy."

Lucius slides his cock gently out of Draco's arse, making the beautiful boy whimper from the loss but only for a little while as his father buries two-thirds of his cock inside his son's channel in one brutal thrust, the younger wizard moaning from the sweet pain he glorifies, Lucius' lascivious power and dominance. The elder dark wizard gives his son all that they both want so badly, fucking Draco's arse in chaotic mixture of slow, teasing movements and hard, fast thrusts, as Lucius buries his cock inside his son's obedient flesh so deep Draco can feel his father's groin against his entrance. In their frenzied coupling there is no steady rhythm but the lithe Pureblood boy matches every single one of his father's thrusts by eager movements of his body, in the exactly same chaotic tune of flesh, their incestuous lust drawing towards perfection and Lucius gives the pure dark divinity of ecstasy and agony to his son. He draws his wand and points Draco's sweet, gossamer form, whispering words in loving, tender voice.

"Come for me, Draco."   
"Father..."   
"_Crucio._"

Born not out of cruelty but from love and twisted arousal, Draco feels the Unforgivable Curse as the ultimate pleasure, silver stars of the eternal beauty of the night sky and dark, blissful twilight clouding his mind, Lucius' Cruciatus like the burning touch of an incubus. He climaxes violently, screaming his father's name. His whole body twitches and his channel like hot velvet clenches around Lucius' cock, so impossibly tight with frantic, uncontrolled movements and as the lean, aristocratic Pureblood ends the curse, coming inside his son's arse, he feels equal dark ecstasy.

Weakened by both the ritual and their violent love-making, Lucius falls backwards while holding Draco on top of him in tight, loving embrace. Under the gentle light of full moon mirroring their bodies, now gone through the absolute opposite of gentleness, father and son lie on the grave of one's father and the other's grandfather, on the verge of losing consciousness from the sweetest little death beyond imagination, breathing heavily in the same rhythm, entwined by bond of incestuous purity, the absolute dark love that can only be achieved between two Malfoys.

Lucius gains his strength slowly but surely and reaches for a small black bottle in the breast pocket of his velvet robe cast away during the ritual. It is a very rare liquid, an invention of Severus Snape from the time of their twisted love and lust, somewhat sarcastically named as The Relief for the Dionysian Debauchery. It is the best healing potion in the whole Wizarding World and while it soothes all pain away, it is specifically designed to cure the after-effects of a Cruciatus curse as Lucius and Severus practised Cruciatus during sex quite a lot when they were young and idealistic Death Eaters.

Draco is still somewhere between the waking world, post-orgasmic bliss and the numbing after-effects of Cruciatus, looking like pure, innocent corruption, but when Lucius pours a few droplets of the thick bloodlike liquid inside his half-open mouth, Draco smirks like an imp, his eyes glowing with such very intensely fulfilled satisfaction that all illusions of innocence are gone. It is very doubtful that Draco or Lucius have _ever_ been innocent as Malfoys are born as themselves, not moulded into statues of deceit and decadence in flesh.

"Father, I _seriously_ doubt the Wizengamot's members' sanity as they send people into Azkaban from giving a perfect orgasm."

Draco sniggers, perfectly aware of the fact that there are very, very few wizards able to draw pleasure from a Cruciatus curse.

"My silver dragon, you are _such_ a delight."   
"How could I not be, as I am your son. By the way, what would _your father_ think about us having dirty sex on his grave?"   
"Well... as he died so young, you cannot know but I am _rather_ certain he would have liked to watch ...or actually _participate_."

Lucius' mouth twitches in amusement and he lets out a low chuckle as he wraps his simple velvet robe over their bodies. Draco squirms his nimble body against his father's lasciviously demonic form, a voiceless silvery laughter on his lips. Though they have sated their debauched lusts so thoroughly, Lucius is as enchanted by the devious afterglow of their union as his son, and he reaches for Draco's androgynous body and forces his fingers, now covered with the boy's semen, inside his son's pretty mouth. While Draco sucks Lucius' fingers hungrily, the elder Pureblood thinks absently how his son's warm, welcoming mouth and his lips seem to be made for that, swallowing pure Malfoy seed and telling deceitful lies and twisted truths for the world outside. Draco returns the favour, gently probing his father's mouth with his tongue to share the taste of their merging. Not breaking the kiss, Lucius reaches for his wand and they Apparate into Lucius' study.

"Pardon me that the ritual left no time for good-mannered conversation. It is such a pleasure to see you, my silver dragon. Especially as you have improved so much." (Much harder and therefore even more enjoyable to tear you under my control. I prefer a skilful opponent.)   
"Thank you, Father. Still, I have to apologize my lack of self-control for I have longed for you so much." (You _certainly_ don't mind that.)   
"As have I."

Lucius folds the velvet ritual robe, now stained with blood and semen, on the table and drawls a wandless spell.

"_Accio_ Green Taint of Faeries."   
"Very nice, Father. You know that it's my personal favourite."   
"It has always been. I remember very well how you sneaked into my study to steal a bottle of that and ended up being caught in the paralysis trap while I was away at the Ministry, forced to listen Fudge rambling about problems caused by his own incompetence. I _definitely_ think that even Walden Macnair's hairy arse would be better Minister of Magic that that sad excuse of a wizard."

"Umm... as you have gained that important knowledge, I must ask how many Death Eaters you have shagged, Father?" Draco smirks, his amused expression very alike Lucius'.

"I think I have lost count of that. Are you jealous?" (No, you are not and nor am I.)   
"Of course not, I really don't mind to share."

Now two crystal goblets filled with sparkling, green liquid are floating in mid-air between Lucius and Draco. The two aristocratic Purebloods take gentle sips of the bitter-sweet liquor, tasting the dark sensuality and warm, flowing undertone like hint of mystery, always just beyond reach. Lucius notices absently the velvet robe's existence and summons his personal house-elf.

"Master. How Grumpy can serve Master?"   
"Take my robe from my desk and wash it. After that, iron your ears because your unworthy fingers will stain the cloth."   
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."

The house-elf disappears.

"Back to the ritual, as you probably have noticed, it created a bond between us, allowing us to send our emotions to each other."   
"Yes, Father. That is _enjoyable_ to say the least."

"But it won't be so always. Narcissa has foreseen from Muggle entrails that there are dark times ahead. For both of us. Even more importantly, the ritual made a twilight veil upon us, to keep us somewhat ...out of sight of our enemies. I cannot tell you more at the moment, but Severus will continue your Occlumency lessons as soon as he can."   
"I won't fail your expectations, Father." Draco bows.

"I hope so. This is very important." Lucius' expression is stern and serious. "However, the Lunar Portkey activates in a minute and you must be back at Hogwarts before someone notices your absence."

"Fuck. I will miss you. Will you think of me while fucking someone else?"   
"If you will too, my sweet libertine."

Their luscious smirks and eyes sparkling with amusement so similar, Lucius and Draco seal their promise with a short but passionate kiss, and then Draco vanishes from his father's study, sitting naked on his bed and wondering. However, his thoughts are not that disturbed anymore and the thin Slytherin drifts soon into dark realm of his subconscious, breathing softly and seeing visions of countless generations of Malfoys engaged into the same pure incestuous union that he shares with Lucius.


End file.
